Wayne H.W Wolfson
I was having a drink. Faust's. Again, the way
every story must begin. Life is made up of daily rituals and totems
the corners. A woman sits by herself. She has an empty glass on either side of
her. I spend a few more moments looking. Brown bob cut, pear shaped. Not even
the table vultures bother.
Sometimes I like them big. She looks sort of sad.
I like this too, sometimes.
From across the room our eyes meet. I smile and
it takes her a few minutes to decide I am not mocking her. With a nod I join
her for a drink.
Her name is Sabbath, and to say it is like chewing on a
I'm a writer, unpublished. A nobody with a silver swan
We go back to her place. She lives on the top floor. The
stairs trick me, mating and multiplying with every step
A candle is lit,
long shadows put us in a painting.
At first Sabbath just wants me to enjoy
myself. I notice the odd way her hair parts on the top of her head. For her to
keep going I have to say things. She insists. Not talk dirty, but just let her
know that I am enjoying it.
When I finish I open my eyes. She has undressed
and is laying next to me biting her bottom lip. She leans forward. We
Holding my wrists with her hands Sabbath slowly sinks down. The candle
is gone. Palms down on my stomach for balance our tempo speeds up. I clasp my
hands behind her back. I feel something odd. There is a long echoed note of a
horn. I spill into her as she calls my name.
We stay linked, she rests on me
until our heat becomes too much.
There is nothing more she wants.
a cigarette. She is laying on her side facing the wall. Her back is covered in
a series of ivory inlaid keys, like a saxophone.
With her breath one key
slowly rises and falls exposing a tiny ridged hole.
"My love is deceptively
blues based" she said.
She didn't mention anything about keeping her secret,
but I did have to promise to give her something enigmatic to say if I ever
write about her.
"Like a modern day Sphinx" she said.
© Wayne H. W Wolfson June 2004